


Flight Deck Buckaroo

by ufovalet



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, MJN March
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 17:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6386158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufovalet/pseuds/ufovalet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Martin loses to Douglas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flight Deck Buckaroo

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MJN March on Tumblr (mjnsmarchmerriment.tumblr.com) for the prompt "Flight Deck Buckaroo".

“Ok, Martin, that’s enough ‘Beat the Manuals’ for one flight, don’t you think?”  
“But it’s educational!”  
“You know what other game is educational?” Douglas leaned back in his seat, smirking.  
“Douglas, no,” Martin said, immediately recognizing the dangerous gleam in his co-pilot’s eyes.  
“Just one round, then we can play your choice of game for the rest of the week. Promise.”  
Martin was instantly wary of this too-generous-to-be-true offer, “Really? The whole week? You do know we have that 20-hour flight to Sydney?”  
“The whole week, Martin,” Douglas put his hands up in a gesture of transparency, “no tricks. Promise.”  
“Alright,” Martin said reluctantly, “but no messing with the directional gyro this time. Last time-”  
“Yes!” Douglas interrupted hastily, “I remember what happened last time, thank you.”  
“Ok, well, you go first.”  
Douglas rose from his chair and stalked the length of the confined flight deck a few times, before deciding on a suitable instrument to disable.  
“Douglas! We need that!” Martin exclaimed.  
“Do we really?” Douglas drawled, unscrewing the front of the device with his Swiss Army knife and fiddling with the wires.  
“Yes! Without the slip-skid indicator we can’t-”  
“Yes, Martin, I’m perfectly aware of its function. But any proper pilot knows how to operate without one in case of emergency.”  
“Yes, well, yes,” Martin spluttered, “of course I can operate without one, but CAA guidelines-”  
“Martin,” Douglas returned to his seat, “remember our deal.”  
“I- yes, alright,” Martin said unhappily.  
“Your turn.”  
Martin deliberately took his time in choosing his move. He finally stopped in front of the control panel for the cabin intercom.  
“Martin, the intercom does not count as a flight instrument,” Douglas said drily.  
“According to who?”  
“According to me-- the inventor of the game.”  
“You should’ve specified before we started, now toss me your screwdriver.”  
Martin removed the panel and moved a few wires around, leaving the panel off so he could fix it later.  
“There, I’ve disabled the mute button. Not that we ever use it anyways.” Martin smirked, pleased at having beaten Douglas at his own game, literally.  
“Well done, captain.” Douglas managed to make the title sound like an insult. “Now let’s see how we get along without the attitude indicator.”  
“Douglas that’s insane!”  
“Nonsense. Visibility is high right now and as a trained pilot you should easily be able to get along using other devices in combination to perform the same function.”  
“We need it to regulate the pitch and bank of the plane! The passengers will notice if we don’t maintain a steady orientation.” Martin was flushed.  
“The passengers?” Douglas scoffed, “I’m sure they’re all saturated with alcohol by now, and even if they weren’t, I doubt half of them would notice a train if it hit them head on. I’d be surprised if they could claim two dozen IQ points between them.”  
Martin nearly smiled at the scathing jab, especially after the way some of the uppity retirees had treated him during boarding, but he smothered the grin. He was about to admonish Douglas for speaking ill of paying clients when Carolyn barged into the flight deck, looking ready to inflict some serious damage on someone. Douglas and Martin both fell silent, but instead of letting loose on her two pilots, Carolyn strode over to the cabin intercom control. She adjusted a few wires with an ease born of familiarity, then turned to Martin and Douglas.   
“Gentlemen,” she began calmly, “who has been gutting my airplane?”  
“S-sorry, Carolyn,” Martin ducked his head, “we were playing a game, a stupid game.”  
Douglas shot Martin an indignant look, which Martin ignored.  
“Well, I can only assume that neither of you geniuses realized the cabin address microphone has been on for the past five minutes.”  
Martin turned sheet-white.  
“You mean...I.. I disconnected the wrong wires...” Martin stuttered  
“Martin,” Douglas said calmly, “You absolute clot.”


End file.
